


The End of a Perfect Summer's Day

by parallelmonsoon



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Surreal, character illness, references to blood and injury, spoilers in notes at bottom if you need content warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelmonsoon/pseuds/parallelmonsoon
Summary: The rain beats steady against Janus's shoulders.  He’s soaked through, shivering so hard his back aches.  He isn’t sure how long he’s been walking.  Hours, surely, though it feels like days.Every block looks the same.  Ubiquitous city.  Cracked sidewalks, pigeon shit, brownstones standing sentry. The streetlights cast a dim, wavering light that seems to pulse.Janus trudges on and thinks of warmer times.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sander mentioned, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44
Collections: Remix Revival 2020 Madness





	The End of a Perfect Summer's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Soul Searching](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543776) by [amybri2002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amybri2002/pseuds/amybri2002). 
  * In response to a prompt by [amybri2002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amybri2002/pseuds/amybri2002) in the [remixmadness2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> safe works; https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833610
> 
> If you need content warnings, please check the notes at the bottom! They do contain heavy spoilers. 
> 
> To my remix giftee- I really hope you like this!

Everything has been blurry since Janus left the house. 

The rain beats steady against his shoulders. He’s soaked through, shivering so hard his back aches. He isn’t sure how long he’s been walking. Hours, surely, though it feels like days. 

Every block looks the same. Ubiquitous city. Cracked sidewalks, pigeon shit, discarded condoms unfurled in twisted hieroglyphics. The brownstones standing sentry are shuttered and barred. The streetlights cast a dim, wavering light that seems to pulse. 

A taxi rolls past and disappears around the corner. 

Janus trudges on and thinks of warmer times. 

* * *

_“Double Hiss? Are you watching?”_

_The cicadas droned lazy in the trees. There was just enough of a breeze to turn the heat from stifling to pleasant._

_Another perfect summer day._

_“Jay,_ **_look_ ** _!”_

_Janus sighed and rolled to prop himself up on his side. Remus waved violently, throwing his whole body into the motion. He was stripped bare to the waist, tanned toasty, green trunks a neon assault. Janus had to squint to see him clearly against the too blue backdrop of the sky._

_“Your boytoy is watching, Rem, now get_ **_on_ ** _with it,” Roman groused from where he sat at his brother’s feet, “I have a moral obligation to beat your ass.”_

_(Had the others been there that day? Try as he might, Janus couldn’t recall. If so, Logan would have been reading. Patton would have been singing along to the radio and trying (and failing) to entice Virgil to dance.)_

_Remus flipped the knife in his hand. The tip of his tongue poked between his teeth as he studied the target on the far side of the quarry._

_“Bullseye and a double flip,” he announced, and backed up to get a running start._

* * *

Janus thinks vaguely that he should call someone. 

He feels in his pockets; no cellphone. No wallet either. 

Only then does he notice the briefcase in his other hand. It hangs open, and when he glances back he finds the gutters clogged with sodden paper. The ink runs off in crimson swirls. Janus lets the briefcase fall and keeps moving. 

He could ask to borrow a phone, but the only other people on the street are far ahead, dim shapes nearly eclipsed by the rain. 

The taxi glides by again. The streetlights reflect bilious yellow off its crumpled hood. They’re pulsing slower now, with a stuttering flicker that makes Janus feel queasy. 

He would call Remus, if he could. 

* * *

_“Leave me alone.” Janus swiped his wrist against his nose and buried his face in his arms._

_The new kid ignored him. He cleared his throat with a rasping honk and rocked forward as he spat, whooping loud when it splattered the sidewalk._

_“New record!” Janus grunted when he was poked. “Come on, Snakeface, you gotta_ **_look_ ** _.”_

_Pouting was clearly getting him nowhere. Janus raised his head enough to glare balefully. Most of the other kids would have flinched back and run off squealing about cooties._

_Remus only grinned. “You’re all snotty,” he said, “That’s_ **_awesome_ ** _.”_

 _“_ **_Go. Away_ ** _.” Janus said again._

_Remus blinked at him, and his confusion looked genuine. “Why?”_

_“I’ll touch you if you don’t.” Janus scrubbed his fingers against the patch of itchy, flaky skin on his cheek and wiggled them menacing at Remus._

_Remus grabbed his hand and_ **_licked his fingers._ **

_Janus wrenched free, cradling his wet and sticky hand against his chest. “You’re gross,” he accused._

_“Yeah,” Remus agreed. He offered his own hand. “You wanna go chase the kids on the swings? I bet they’ll run.”_

_“....okay,” Janus said, and let Remus pull him to his feet._

* * *

  
There's a light up ahead. 

The sight of it, the **promise** of it, makes Janus move a little faster. Not quite a run but certainly a hustle, and he feels the bones pop and grind in his chest. 

A pawn shop. 

Just one of the many Janus’s father had frequented. It still has the same taxidermed snake coiled in the window, poised to strike. It used to terrify Janus when he was small, but he sees it now for the dusty, moth-eaten thing that it is. The taxi’s passing headlights spark green off its broken fangs. 

The door opens with a screech like tires skidding on wet pavement. Uneasy nostalgia sweeps over Janus as he steps inside. He winds his way between teetering stacks of law books and steps over a mound of broken gavels.

The man behind the counter adjusts his glasses and lifts a hand in greeting. “Janus.” His stern voice is at odds with the smile quirking at the corner of his cracked and bitten lips. 

“Logan!” It’s the first pleasant surprise of the day. “I haven’t seen you since…” 

* * *

_Logan shook off Janus’s placating hand with a growl._

_“I can’t!” A pack of passing students turned to stare when Logan started to pace, spinning violent every fifth stride. They recoiled when Janus pinned them with a glare and hurried on. “I_ **_failed_ ** _, Janus!”_

_Logan balled his hand into a fist, crumbling the paper he held. It took Janus stepping into his path to make him stop the dizzying back and forth._

_“Yes, L. One quiz is totally worth having a meltdown over. Wave goodbye to your future.”_

_He’d meant it as teasing. A reminder that things were rarely quite so serious. Sarcasm had always been his best ally against life’s disappointments, and most of the time even stoic, serious Logan had understood that. He expected a scowl._

_Instead Logan’s face crumpled._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and started to cry._

* * *

“Yes, well.” Logan pushes his glasses up a little higher. He really hasn’t changed much, Janus realizes. The same blocky frames, the same off-the-rack suit and tie. He’s taller, though, and a good deal skinnier, wrists as knobby as a teen’s on the cusp of puberty. “It is not unusual for a child labeled gifted to struggle to meet expectations later in life.”  
  


* * *

_(Logan had gone home that weekend. Just for a break, he’d told Janus. He’d be back before Christmas. By the New Year most certainly.)_

_(They’d kept in contact at first. Until Logan stopped responding, and the rumors were all that remained. A broken genius turned party boy. Potential squandered. Later, much later, a hint of hope-)_

* * *

“The rehab…?” Janus dares to ask.

“I’m fine now,” Logan assures, and his breath puffs white. Behind him the pans of the scale spill over with rainwater. “I believe a more pertinent question is how are **you** , Janus?” 

Janus busies himself by pawing through the oddities on the counter. Anything to avoid the sympathy in his friend’s bloodshot eyes. He scoops a handful of sand from the broken hourglass and lets the clumps dribble between his fingers. 

“Fine,” he says, “I’m doing just fine.” 

* * *

_(Just fine, and never anything more._

_He’d graduated. Gotten hired as an intern at his first pick of law firms. Worked his way up to partner. Bought a condo._

_Slept. Woken. Walked to work. Walked home. Slept._

_Lather._

_Rinse._

_Repeat.)_

* * *

“Just fine,” he says again. 

Logan clears his throat with a noisy rasp and wipes the bile from his chin. Janus chances a glance and flinches from the understanding there. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Logan says, and Janus shakes his head until his spine grinds. 

“You…” He can’t bring himself to say it was okay. Can’t claim he didn’t miss him. “It’s so good to see you again, Logan.” 

They smile at each other, and the rain streaks their cheeks. 

Logan seems to shake himself then. “In any case, you’ve dallied too long as it is. Your trade?” 

Janus considers. He has so little of value. 

“It doesn’t need to be.” Outside the shop window the taxi passes by and the sweep of its headlights makes the shadows sway. “It can be anything, so long as you don’t want to take it with you.” 

Janus looks at his watch. 

It’s much too big and bulky for his wrist, but then his father always had been the bigger man. 

* * *

_“Two fifty.”_

_The man behind the register spoke with finality. Janus’s father scoffed._

_“Three hundred,” he countered, “There’s not a scratch on it!”_

_Janus tuned out the haggling and went wandering down the aisles, breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell of mold and slow rusting metal. He stopped to examine a set of chattering teeth, but the spring was broken and the key spun loose._

_He found a nice corner and settled down, sitting crisscross on the floor and tipping his head back against the shelf. He was woken from his doze by the clomp clomp of his father’s heavy work boots heading his way. Janus pushed himself to his feet and went to meet him._

_His father peeled off two bills from the stack of his hand and offered them to Janus. He even gave him a pat on the head, and that meant the things Janus had_ ~~_stolen_ ~~ _found had been the_ **_right_ ** _sort of things._

_“You did good,” his father confirmed, “Especially that ring.”_

_(Gold, with a glittering red stone. Mrs. Ruth had taken it off and set it on her desk because they were working with clay. She’d searched everyone’s desks and backpacks, but Janus had tucked it under his tongue, easy peasy, and walked right by her.)_

_Janus shied to the side when they passed the snake by the entrance, eyeing it nervously and scratching at the rash on his cheek. He knew it was dead, his father had even poked it to prove it, but he didn’t like its eyes. They were angry and small and sad, and Janus felt its gaze on his back even after they were safely outside._

_“You wanna get Mickey D’s?” his father asked, and Janus nodded eagerly. He took the big hand when it was offered, hooking his fingers over the band of his father’s watch._

_“Nuggets for Pat,” he reminded. His little brother should already be tucked up cozy in their bed, but there were some things worth getting up for. “...and a cookie?”_

_Dad laughed. “Sure,” he said, “You’ve earned it.”_ _  
_

* * *

Janus rubs at the psoriasis on his cheek and unwinds the snake from around his wrist. It rattles its tail as it slithers across the counter and climbs up Logan’s arm to coil around his throat. 

Logan strokes its head with two fingers and passes Janus two coins. 

“Don’t be late,” he warns, “It’s almost time.” 

Roman is waiting when Janus steps outside. He grins to show his braces and sweeps Janus into a hug. Janus squawks and makes a token attempt to wiggle loose before surrendering to his fate. 

“Himbo,” he grunts, and Roman laughs in that obnoxious way of his. 

“Slimy asshole.” He pokes Janus in the side hard enough to make him yelp. 

They walk together between the trees. The leaves rustle under the deluge, and the musk of the pawnshop is overtaken by the rich smell of good, dark mud. 

Overhead the cicadas are screaming. 

It’s a hike to reach the top of the rough-hewn rocks that surround the quarry. Janus spits out something lumpish and red and plops down on his rump. Roman laughs at him again, but does the same, tipping his head back to the sky. The rain pools in his wide-staring eyes. 

“I thought you’d be angry,” Janus admits. 

Roman glances over. “Nah.” He flicks the notion away with a flip of his wrist. “If I was it didn’t last long.” 

No. Janus supposes it didn’t. 

He scooches himself over to the edge and leans to peek over. Despite the rain the surface of the reservoir is still and so clear he can see the jagged rocks lurking beneath the surface. Something that might be a log floats in slow circles. 

Beside him Roman chuckles, and the algae tainted water spills from his lips. “I’m still pissed my trashcan of a brother beat me.” 

He tips his head toward the target strung up in the trees on the far side of the reservoir. The green handled knife still quivers, planted dead center in the middle of the painted red bullseye. 

* * *

_(A flash freeze image of Remus against that ridiculously blue sky.)_

_(The thunk of the knife’s distant impact.)_

_(The splash far below.)_

_( )_

_( )_

_( )_

_(Silence.)_

* * *

“Have you seen him?” Janus asks, “I mean, since…?” 

Roman stands and offers a hand. 

( _“Yeah,” Remus agreed. He offered his own hand. “You wanna go chase the kids on the swings? I bet they’ll run.”)_

“Of course,” Roman says as he pulls Janus to his feet, “We’re always here.”

He hands Janus the knife. It’s cheap and worn, the blade long since gone dull. The paint on the hilt flakes green across his palm. A pawnshop find for Remus’s tenth birthday, and Janus had never been prouder of a gift before or since. 

He tucks it into his belt. Roman thumps his shoulder in approval and turns Janus around just as the taxi pulls up to the curb. Smoke boils out from its hood and its headlights flash a slow and faltering beat. 

“Get a move on,” Roman says, “Don’t keep him waiting.” 

* * *

Janus slides into the backseat. Virgil twists around to face him, touching two fingers to his forehead in salute. 

“Fare?” he asks, and Janus tips the coins Logan gave him into Virgil’s waiting palm. 

The taxi’s engine spits and rattles as it drifts down the city street. They swerve wide around the corner, avoiding the crowd staring down with shocked, white faces at something crumbled in the gutter. Papers swirl past the taxi’s window, taking flight with the whirl of pigeon wings. 

“I see you’re still stuck in the emo phrase,” Janus says dryly. 

Black lipstick, black eyeliner, black nails. None of it hides Virgil’s pallor or the sores at the corners of lips, but he looks good. 

Certainly better than Janus remembers. 

* * *

_Virgil coughed wet into his fist and pulled his blanket up a little higher. Janus hurried to get him another, careful not to disturb any IV lines as he spread it out across Virgil’s curled body._

_“Okay?” he asked._

_Virgil nodded. “Don’t look so terrified.” Weak as he was, he still managed to pack an obscene amount of sass into his eyeroll. “I’m cold, not…”_

_“Don’t.”_

_They stared each other down. Virgil caved with a sigh._

_“You just missed Patton,” he said, “Do me a favor and take him out to dinner tonight? Get him out of here for a few hours.”_

_“You act like Patton listens to me.”_

_“Then drag him out.” The sudden, sharp tone of it made Janus recoil. “You have to take care of him, J. When I’m-”_

_“Why don’t I fix your eyeliner?” Janus was already moving to rummage through Virgil’s bedside table. “You look like a rabid racoon. Are you_ **_trying_ ** _to scare off your nurses, Virgil?”_

_It took only a few minutes to touch things up. Virgil obligingly tilted his chin this way and that. Finished, Janus tried to withdraw only to find Virgil’s thin fingers were tight around his wrist._

_“Promise me,” he said, “Janus, promise me.”_

* * *

Virgil taps the meter. The numbers blur by too fast to read. 

“Just about,” he says. “Are you ready?” 

The taxi turns the corner. A woman weeps into her hands. A young man turns away to vomit into a puddle. 

“I’m afraid,” Janus admits. 

“...yeah.” Virgil runs those skeletal fingers through the stringy strands still clinging to his scalp. His wedding ring is a few sizes too big now and slides with the movement. “I get that. My advice? Don’t fight it.” 

* * *

_You can go, sweetheart.” Patton’s voice had been steady. No trace of tears, and Janus couldn’t have guessed how strong his little brother could be. “I’ll be okay. We all will. Promise.”_

* * *

“Not of that.” And what does that say about Janus and his just fine life? “I’m afraid…” 

He trails off. Takes a deep breath for courage, feeling his ribs stab sullen against his lungs. 

“I watched,” he said, “Just like always. Maybe if I hadn’t…” 

_(“Jay,_ **_look_ ** _!” )  
_

“Remus is a moron,” Virgil says. 

Janus gapes. He makes a muted noise of outrage…and then deflates with a snicker, cause yeah. 

Fair enough. 

“Were you there that day?” he asks.

Virgil shakes his head and guides the taxi through another turn. There are flashing lights outside the window now, blue and red and eye-searing neon green. 

“No,” he says, “Not that day. But I’m there now. We all are.” 

* * *

_(So many perfect summer days.)_

_(The twins bickering.)_

_(Logan reading aloud, softly mumbled words in the cadence of a poem.)_

_(Janus stretched out in the sun-warmed grass.)_

_(Patton singing and trying to pull Virgil off his perch.)_

_(“Dance with me! Virge, let’s-”)_

* * *

Janus jolts. 

“Patton?” he asks, and panic turns it into a hiss. 

Outside the cicadas go on screaming.

“No, no,” Virgil hastens to reassure, “Or he is, but later.” 

He clicks his tongue when relief makes Janus break into giddy giggles. “Look, asshole, I’m trying to be all brooding and mysterious here. You could at least play along.”

Janus’s chuckles fade. “It’s hard to remember. I think...” 

* * *

_(The silence.)_

_(The panic.)_

_(A flash freeze image of Roman against that ridiculously blue sky.)_

* * *

It hadn’t been the jump, at least, not like with Remus. Just the struggle of his brother weighing him down, and Janus used to wonder if there had been a moment, a second, just one, where Roman had thought to let go. 

To stop fighting. 

“It’s not worth trying,” Virgil says, “And anyway...what does it matter?” 

The crowd is starting to break up. The only thing that remains is a smear on the asphalt and a drift of papers trampled into the muck. 

Virgil taps the meter again, and the snake coiled on the dash lifts its head and rattles its tail. 

“You ready?” he asks again. 

Janus tries to sigh. His chest hitches small instead, and the moan that bubbles from his throat is the sound of an engine winding down. 

“I’m afraid,” he says again, “What if he hates me? What if-"

Virgil brings the taxi to a jerking stop. “He’s a moron and you’re an idiot,” he says. 

Fair enough. 

*****************************************

Remus is waiting for him when Janus steps up to the reservoir’s edge. The sun sparks bright off his smile and the cicadas drone lazy in the trees.

“Took you long enough,” he says. 

**Author's Note:**

> One last warning that there are heavy spoilers ahead. This fic contains major character death for multiple characters and intense surreal imagery of the dying process. It does, however, have its own kind of happy ending.


End file.
